When You Fail
Dear Daughter,
There comes a time when you fail at something. Either you just can't master a particular skill or you are not mentally, emotionally, or physically ready for the challenge. While our society touts "everyone is a winner" and passes out participation ribbons like candy, there are still domains in which you lose or fail.
Like swimming.
This weekend you received your Preschool Level 2 Swimming Report Card. Sad to say, you are NOT moving on to the next level. You failed to master the critical skill of submerging your head completely underwater.
"I feel awful," your instructor apologized, "But if she doesn't put her head under water, I can't pass her."
"I understand," I assured her, "We don't want her to move on to the next level until she is ready. She is a cautious learner when it comes to physical skills. She walked at 17 months. She does not desire to remove her training wheels off her bike. If she has to repeat this level, that's fine. Don't worry. You are doing a great job."
All the while, I had a lump in my throat. You, my sweet daughter, failed. And now you need to repeat.
You and I had a chat later. I explained that you could not move on to Preschool 3 because you did not want to submerge your head. You would have to re-do Preschool 2. I braced myself for your tears. But you didn't cry. You accepted the news with pre-K logic.
Interestingly enough, I think I struggled more over the news of you failing that you yourself. My pride as a parent was slightly bruised. There I stood with your swimming instructor while you tearfully shivered in the corner refusing to participate in a skill. I felt the eyes of many, many other parents zone in on me. "They know. They a-l-l know. She isn't going to pass. And they will talk about us this afternoon. 'You know that hazel-eyed girl in the pink bathing suit with the mixed parents? Well, she didn't pass. Our kid passed. But she failed.'"
Thankfully, the other part of me -- the more sane, logical side -- silently spoke out in confidence about you. "She is not ready! And when she is, she will submerge away with great skill. So what if she has to repeat! She is smart, I know that. But she needs time. And confidence. It will come. Just you watch!"
Failing isn't easy. It hurts. It is inconvenient. But it happens all the time. And we need to learn how to deal with it. Sadly, our education system avoids grade failures until the student enters high school (I guess KG - Grade 9 is play school?). Then bang! A kid who is skill deficient "suddenly" fails everything. How is that suppose to help their self-esteem? It's like trying to qualify someone for a life guarding position who can't even swim! (Or like I thought as an educator, "How can I expect you to factor a polynomial when you can't give me the answer to 6 x 9!?!")
As your parents, we are first and foremost responsible for your education, whether it is swimming or spiritual training or academics. Yes, there are many, many organizations out there who will assist us in getting the job done. But ultimately, if you are struggling or missing a skill, we have to fill in the gaps. That is our job as your parents.
I will try my utmost to help you either fill in the gaps or provide enrichment when needed. I will be your advocate. I will let you fail at times. But, as long as I am able, I will be there when you fall to help you get up. And God will be there always and forever.
Love,
Your Mommy (who still needs to learn how to swim properly)
There comes a time when you fail at something. Either you just can't master a particular skill or you are not mentally, emotionally, or physically ready for the challenge. While our society touts "everyone is a winner" and passes out participation ribbons like candy, there are still domains in which you lose or fail.
Like swimming.
This weekend you received your Preschool Level 2 Swimming Report Card. Sad to say, you are NOT moving on to the next level. You failed to master the critical skill of submerging your head completely underwater.
"I feel awful," your instructor apologized, "But if she doesn't put her head under water, I can't pass her."
"I understand," I assured her, "We don't want her to move on to the next level until she is ready. She is a cautious learner when it comes to physical skills. She walked at 17 months. She does not desire to remove her training wheels off her bike. If she has to repeat this level, that's fine. Don't worry. You are doing a great job."
All the while, I had a lump in my throat. You, my sweet daughter, failed. And now you need to repeat.
You and I had a chat later. I explained that you could not move on to Preschool 3 because you did not want to submerge your head. You would have to re-do Preschool 2. I braced myself for your tears. But you didn't cry. You accepted the news with pre-K logic.
Interestingly enough, I think I struggled more over the news of you failing that you yourself. My pride as a parent was slightly bruised. There I stood with your swimming instructor while you tearfully shivered in the corner refusing to participate in a skill. I felt the eyes of many, many other parents zone in on me. "They know. They a-l-l know. She isn't going to pass. And they will talk about us this afternoon. 'You know that hazel-eyed girl in the pink bathing suit with the mixed parents? Well, she didn't pass. Our kid passed. But she failed.'"
Thankfully, the other part of me -- the more sane, logical side -- silently spoke out in confidence about you. "She is not ready! And when she is, she will submerge away with great skill. So what if she has to repeat! She is smart, I know that. But she needs time. And confidence. It will come. Just you watch!"
Failing isn't easy. It hurts. It is inconvenient. But it happens all the time. And we need to learn how to deal with it. Sadly, our education system avoids grade failures until the student enters high school (I guess KG - Grade 9 is play school?). Then bang! A kid who is skill deficient "suddenly" fails everything. How is that suppose to help their self-esteem? It's like trying to qualify someone for a life guarding position who can't even swim! (Or like I thought as an educator, "How can I expect you to factor a polynomial when you can't give me the answer to 6 x 9!?!")
As your parents, we are first and foremost responsible for your education, whether it is swimming or spiritual training or academics. Yes, there are many, many organizations out there who will assist us in getting the job done. But ultimately, if you are struggling or missing a skill, we have to fill in the gaps. That is our job as your parents.
I will try my utmost to help you either fill in the gaps or provide enrichment when needed. I will be your advocate. I will let you fail at times. But, as long as I am able, I will be there when you fall to help you get up. And God will be there always and forever.
Love,
Your Mommy (who still needs to learn how to swim properly)